


Gods and Monsters

by littleharlequin



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleharlequin/pseuds/littleharlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Royalty AU/AH. After a ten year absence, Lady Caroline Salvatore has returned to London at her brother's behest. Once there, it isn't long before she catches the interests of the people - including that of the reigning king, Niklaus Mikaelson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries.

Caroline Salvatore was the best hide-and-go-seek player  _ever_. Better than Damon and much,  _much_ better than Stefan.

Damon said it was because, at seven years old, she was still small enough to fit into the tiniest, most discreet hiding places without detection and, at thirteen, her eldest brother was far too tall and gangly that even when he tried to hide under a bed, his feet still stuck out conspicuously at the bottom. But nevertheless, despite his frequently concurrent losses, he still played with her, he and Stefan dutifully taking it in turns to count from one to a hundred while she skipped off merrily in search of somewhere new to hide.

It was, without a doubt, her favourite rainy day game, their spacious mansion offering endless places to hide, and as the winds howled and the rain pounded heavily against their many windows, Caroline shrunk further back into the wardrobe, her knees drawn high against her chest. Their game had been significantly reduced that morning and she couldn't help but frown at the limitations they had been confined to. Their father had told them all, rather sternly, at breakfast that, if they truly insisted on playing, then they must only play  _(quietly)_ on the first floor and under no circumstances were they to wander anywhere near their mother's bedroom.

Caroline hadn't seen her mother in a very long time. Father said that she was extremely sick and couldn't have any visitors disturbing her and when Caroline had tried to push the subject, to argue that maybe a visit from them might make her mother feel better, Damon had elbowed her sharply in the ribs and told her to shut up. As he did so, she couldn't help but notice that - for some reason - his eyes were rimmed red and his voice was thick with emotion, as though he was dangerously close to tears. She had been about to ask him why when Stefan had cut in, reasoning with her on their father's behalf, as he looked up long enough from his book to suggest that perhaps, in a few days, their mother might be well enough to accept their visit - all Caroline had to do was be patient.

That had been just over two weeks ago.

From her hiding place, she could hear Damon's footsteps, muffled by distance, and a smile crept across her features. There was no way he was ever going to find her before Stefan. She would win again.

All of a sudden, she felt an irritating tickling feeling deep in her chest. She felt a cough bubble up in her throat and she clapped a hand to her mouth, in a fervent attempt to stifle the sound lest it give her away. She swallowed, content in her efforts to remain undetected, until she felt another cough swell up inside her, the tickle in her chest sharper and more painful than before. Her whole body shook as one cough turned into many in quick succession and she felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes. When, eventually, she seemed to settle, she stayed perfectly still for a long moment, straining to hear any sound of approaching footfalls.

There were none and, with a triumphant grin, she took her hands away from her mouth.

Even in the feeble light that streamed in through the crack between the wardrobe doors, she could see the red on her fingertips as it glistened back at her.

She started, a noise - caught somewhere between a gasp and a scream - falling gutturally from her lips as she scrambled out of the wardrobe. Hot, fat tears of anguish and fear fell down on her cheeks as she tore through the house, looking for her father, Damon, Stefan -  _anyone._ With each step she took, she felt her whole world spin. Her eldest brother was in the library when she found him, peering under one of the couches in search of his siblings. He looked up when he heard her hurried footsteps stumble to a halt, a smirk plucking at the corners of his mouth.

"Given up, have you, Caroline?" he said, in jest, blue eyes twinkling. Worry clouded his features, however, when he caught sight of her tears and the blood on her hands, "Caroline? Caroline, what happened?"

Caroline opened her mouth to reply, but the room suddenly tilted sideways. She felt herself hit the floor hard, the room's mink rug cushioning her fall. Her vision started to blacken around the edges, but she saw Damon's feet as he rushed forward and she felt his hand press against her forehead. She heard him curse (more than once), though his voice felt very faraway as he straightened and called out for their father.

He dropped to his knees before her, calloused hands cupping her burning hot cheeks; his worried face swam in and out of focus. She coughed again and thought she heard herself give a tiny sob as a terrible pain shot through her body.

"Caroline, it's all going to be all right," he whispered to her, though his voice shook and that look in his eyes was back - the one that traitorously told her he was about to cry, "You're going to be all right."

"I... Damon, I don't feel well," she managed to say before her eyes slid shut and her whole world went black.

:-:

Caroline hated sunny days.

No, that wasn't true - she  _loved_  them. She loved climbing trees, getting right up to the tallest branches where she could see everything for miles. She loved running barefoot into the garden's duck pond, wading right into the water until it was at her knees and the hem of her dress was thoroughly soaked. She loved flicking acorns at Damon and running through the grass as he gave chase, yelling curses at her that she knew Father  _hated_  him to say.

So, yes, she loved sunny days. Just not when she was inside and unable to enjoy them.

"How is she feeling today?" their family's physician asked her father, his words muffled as they filtered through the gauze face mask strapped on over his mouth and nose.

"Better, I think," Giuseppe Salvatore replied, through his own mask, barely sparing her a glance. Her father didn't look at her much these days and, when he did, his eyes were full of some unreadable emotion she didn't quite understand, "She's still unable to keep down any food, though. And the pain in her muscles prevents her from getting out of bed."

"I see," the physician remarked and Caroline could hear the frown in his voice, "My Lord Salvatore, I think it might be prudent if I had a word with you in private."

"Of course," her father agreed, nodding.

"Papa..." Caroline croaked, her voice sounding more ragged and more unlike her own with each passing day; with what feeble strength she still had left, she lifted her hand up to him, in desperate need of some sort of comfort and reassurance but, when he did not take it, her arm fell limply back onto her bedclothes.

"Everything will be all right, my darling," he said to her, forcing on a smile that did not reach his eyes.

She knew he was lying. She knew the sickness she had. It was the same as that which had plagued her mother before her and, though she hadn't been told as much, she knew, deep in her heart, that her mother was dead. Her father never spoke of her anymore, despite her frequent questions concerning her well-being, and, for the past three days when he had came to visit her, all he had worn was black - the colour of mourning. Caroline wondered if they would ever tell her.

"Lord Salvatore," the physician called to him, a sharp urgency in his tone as he sought to summon her father's attention.

Her father nodded again and left her side, following the doctor into the hallway outside her nursery. He closed the door over behind him but he did not shut it completely, carelessly leaving it ajar. Lying on her side, her head propped up by pillows, Caroline could see the two of them, their whispered voices filtering into her faintly.

"My lord, I am afraid I must be blunt," the doctor said, his features decidedly grim, "Your daughter is very ill and you must prepare yourselves for the worst. In fact, at her age, it's a miracle she has even lasted this long."

"Do not say that to me," her father argued, jabbing an accusatory finger at his companion, "This...  _sickness_  it has been cured before, I know it has."

"Only in very rare cases," was the response, "And never in anyone as young as the Lady Caroline."

"I cannot lose both my wife and my daughter," Giuseppe Salvatore said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. It was unlike anything Caroline had ever heard from her father before and, in that moment, she found herself in the throes of pure terror when she realized that he was  _crying_.

She froze as the true gravity of her situation crashed down around her horribly and her whole body was overcome by a terrible numb feeling. Icy tendrils wrapped themselves around her heart and squeezed at it painfully. After all, she may have been young, but she was not stupid. The sickness she carried was the same as her mother's, the same one that had stolen her from this world, just as it would Caroline. She would never see her father again; she would never see Damon and Stefan again. She buried her face into her pillow and wept bitter tears at the sickening realization.

She was going to die.

:-:

Things got worse before they got better.

Her muscles ached and she could barely breath for coughing some days, blood staining almost every handkerchief she owned. The grief-ridden looks from her father and the words of her doctor plagued her always, ringing in her ears as she closed her eyes for the night, in an attempt to welcome sleep, and she caught herself wondering - more than once - if perhaps, this time, she would never awaken.

Once or twice, she found herself wishing that would be the case because surely death, though terrifying as a concept, had to be better than the pain, the living hell, she endured daily as she, apparently, merely prolonged the inevitable. She found herself missing her mother and begun to relish the idea of being reunited with her, even if that did mean eternal separation from Damon and Stefan.

But then, miraculously, one morning her appetite was back and her father had bread and cheese and fruit rushed to her room. She ate her fill ravenously, eating and drinking until she could no more. Her fever left her a few days later and her coughing subsided some time after that as well and, for the first time in what felt like a long time, she saw her father smile - a proper smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle like they used to.

Damon and Stefan were allowed to come and visit her in her days of recovery, though only for a little while so as not to overexcite her. Stefan sat, perched on the end of her bed, as he read aloud to her some of her favourite stories from the books in the library, while Damon poked her in the ribs and commanded her to get well soon because he missed his playmate and their brother was  _simply no fun_. She giggled and glowed under the attention.

A week later and she felt strong enough to get out of bed. Ignoring the fearful worries of her nurse, she pushed the heavy bedclothes to one side and got to her feet. Initially, it felt strange and she flung out her arms behind her, holding onto the edge of her mattress for support as she struggled to find her footing. She took a few careful steps forward, relishing the feeling of wooden floors and soft carpets underneath her bare feet, until - finally - she grew steady. She glanced up, beaming at her nurse, who was looking at her with wonder, before she took off running.

"Lady Caroline, watch yourself!" her nurse called after her but she couldn't have cared less as she burst out into the open space of the gardens, still clad only in her nightgown with her hair tumbling, loose, down her back.

The sun was beating down on her and she revelled in it, spinning around with her arms outstretched as it caught the golden colour of her hair and made it shine. She laughed happily as she collapsed onto the grass, dotted with daisies, as birds tweeted high above her. She twisted around and turned onto her stomach, plucking one of the daisies from its stem. Holding it up to her face, she breathed in its scent and grinned.

She had done it. Despite everything, she had beaten the odds.

She was still here.

:-:

"Where am I going, Papa?" Caroline asked as he dismissed her nurse with a wave of his hand and dropped to his knees before her, his aged fingers working deftly to fasten the clasp of her travelling cloak.

Giuseppe Salvatore sighed at the question, his breath dancing across his daughter's face as he brought up a hand and held it to her cheek. Caroline's lips twitched upwards at the familiar gesture and she found herself leaning into its comfort. But there was still...  _something_  in her father's eyes that troubled her, sending her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"Papa?" she prompted him, her green eyes wide and innocent.

"You're going away for awhile, my darling," her father replied, after a moment, and Caroline felt her brow furrow deeply in confusion, "I'm sending you to live with your Aunt Elizabeth out in the country. You remember her, don't you?"

Caroline did, but that small morsel of information did little to ease her curiosity, "Am I going for a holiday?" she asked, eyebrow arched questioningly; her eyes lit up, turning bright and hopeful, "Will Damon and Stefan be coming, too?"

She watched as a grimace flickered over her father's features and he closed his eyes briefly, "Not quite," he replied, carefully choosing his words, "And no, I'm afraid they won't, sweetheart. They are to remain here in London, with me. But you will still see them," he hastened to assure her when her features crumpled, threatening tears or a tantrum, "We will come out to visit you and, perhaps, you to us - if your health permits it."

"But I don't want to go," Caroline whispered, eyes downcast to stare at her shiny black boots, as she nervously toed the ground, "I want to stay here, too."

"I know, my darling," Giuseppe replied, his voice genuinely sympathetic as he looked down on his youngest child, "But you are still frail, Caroline, and the fresh air of the country will do you good. Your Aunt Elizabeth has an enormous house on an even more enormous estate - that's plenty of room for you to run around in and play in - and, I also heard, that she has a stable along with a horse or two. Perhaps when you're older you could learn to ride, hm?"

Caroline glanced up at him, unable to say anything past the lump that had arisen in her throat. Instead, she merely nodded.

"That's my good girl," Giuseppe commended her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

:-:

To go from being the youngest of three to, essentially, an only child was a difficult transition for Caroline.

Loneliness plagued her terribly during her first year living with her Aunt Elizabeth. For the first few months, she lived, in bated breath, waiting to hear from her father and brothers, waiting to hear of an impending visit from them, but none ever came. Occasionally, she ventured outside and ran around the garden, climbing trees and visiting the horses but it wasn't the same without anyone to share in the experience. With no playmates to speak of, Caroline found herself spending the majority of her time on her studies, working with a fierce concentration as she learnt how to write and read books, in the hopes of someday being able to pore through the thick volumes that Stefan had always carried around with him.

The first visit she received from her family came around Christmas time, seven months after she had initially arrived. When she had received the letter, telling her where her father and brothers intended to spend the season, she had been overjoyed, excitement bubbling inside her as she counted down the days to their arrival as best she could. She couldn't wait to take Damon and Stefan around the gardens which had become even more beautiful in December, as they lay under a heavy layer of snow.

Much to her chagrin, however, the visit was a terrible disappointment.

She had been dressed in her best red dress, a little sprig of holly pinned neatly by her shoulder, and she hopped happily from one foot to the other as she waited for the front door to open and for her brothers to gather her up in a bone-crushing embrace. The door opened and she rushed forward, launching herself at Damon - only for him to pointedly remove her arms from around his waist and to almost hold her away from him.

She gazed up at her eldest brother, her expression a mixture of confusion and hurt as she tried to discern the cause of his strange behaviour. It was then that she noticed how different he looked, as well. He was clad in a suit almost identical to that which their father was wearing, right down to the pocket watch chain peeking out from the bottom pocket of his waistcoat, with not a single aspect out of place. Before, his shirt would have been untucked or the collar undone, while his trousers would be ripped or muddy, but when he stood before her then he looked nothing short of pristine. Even his unruly head of black hair looked as though it had been meticulously combed before being tucked under his grey bowler hat.

"Hello, Caroline," he said, in a stiff formal voice that was decidedly not his own, "It's good to see you again."

She wrinkled her nose and mumbled out her own perplexed greeting in return.

All through dinner, she scrutinized him, her confusion growing with each passing hour as, instead of flicking little bits of food at her and Stefan from across the table throughout the meal, Damon actually seemed to be engaging in the boring grown-up conversation regarding their family's lumber mill. It was maddening! Caroline remembered, with a thrill of fear, reading about mythical creatures known as changelings and she wondered idly if maybe that was what had happened to her brother. She didn't think it sounded  _too_ terribly far-fetched and she watched him a bit more closely after that, should he accidentally give away his true nature. _  
_

He dealt his most crushing blow to her, however, in the hours that followed their midday Christmas dinner. Their father and Aunt Elizabeth had retired into the drawing room for coffee, while Caroline had led her brothers up to the nursery. Stefan had complimented her new room and commented on the range of toys she possessed, while Damon sat awkwardly in her nurse's chair, looking very out of place. From outside the window, Caroline could see that the snow had started to fall again and, turning to her brothers with hands clasped in pleading, she begged them to join her outside.

"No, Caroline," Damon had said, sharper than he needed to, "I don't have time for children's games anymore."

Caroline had gaped at him, anger colouring her cheeks a bright red and she opened her mouth to lash out at him verbally, until Stefan - as witness to the exchange - stepped in between them and said that  _he_  would play with her. She closed her mouth and agreed, though she still couldn't bring her eyes to meet Damon's as she pulled on her winter coat, scarf and gloves.

Caroline had tried to enjoy the rest of the holiday after that, with Stefan trying his best to fill the role of two brothers in Damon's absence, but - try as she might - she couldn't shake his words from her mind.  _'I don't have time for children's games anymore.'_ Each syllable stung her, the pain growing the more she thought about it. He'd never cared about such things before, always readily joining in with her games, and she didn't see how so much could have changed in only a matter of months.

As she stood with her aunt, waving them off home a few days later, she could only hope that things would go back to normal the next time they visited.

:-:

They didn't and, in the two years that followed, she lost Stefan as well.

She had wept during that visit, angry tears streaming down her cheeks as she mourned the loss of both brothers she had known in her formative years - though at least Stefan had deigned it his responsibility to explain things to her, exuding far more kindness and sensitivity to her situation than Damon had ever done. They were sitting in the library, he in one of the plush red armchairs that their aunt often settled into at the end of a long day, while she sat, cross-legged, on the fur rug in front of the fire, her back to him as she struggled to process his perceived betrayal.

"It's all part of growing up, Caroline," he said to her, sighing when she still - with the typical petulance of a ten-year-old - refused to look at him, "Father says that when we all reach a certain age, we have to give up our childish games and start behaving a little more sensibly. "

He glanced up at her, pausing in anticipation of a response, but all he received was stony silence.

"Father said it's especially important for us because we're the heirs to the Salvatore estate and the lumber mill," he continued, "People... They expect certain things of us. You'll understand in a few years."

At this, she twisted around to face him, a frown weighing heavily on her features, "No, I won't. I don't ever plan on becoming a boring old grown-up," she regarded him disdainfully, running her eyes over his impeccable attire and his stiff posture, his hat clasped tightly in his hands, "Not like  _you_."

The barest hint of an amused smile flashed across her brother's expression, "You get used to it, in time. I know Damon had a difficult time, but he's... adjusted. In just a few years, he'll start working for Father."

Caroline picked herself up off the floor and folded her arms across her chest, "I won't do it," she reiterated firmly before stomping off furiously.

She fled to her nursery on the second floor after that and, sitting on her pale pink eiderdown, she cradled one of her most favourite dolls in her lap, absent-mindedly stroking her brunette curls. It was in that moment, in her innocence and her naivete, that she made the solemn vow to herself to never,  _ever_  fall prey to the same thing that had stolen her brothers from her.

:-:

It was a promise she eventually found she could not keep as, in the years that followed, she noticed a distinctive shift in the focus of her school studies. Alongside refining her skills in reading, writing and arithmetic, lessons in dancing, etiquette and French filled her time aptly. While initially she was thrown by their presence, she soon found herself becoming more and more immersed in their teachings and - to her surprise - she was  _good_ at it. When she danced, the steps came naturally and she practised them often in the privacy of her bedroom, seeking perfection. The French language fascinated her, also, and she spent many spare hours studying it in an effort to become as fluent in it as her Aunt Elizabeth.

Those were, surprisingly, the good parts of her adolescence. The bad parts came in the form of what seemed like a perpetual loneliness that, while terrible in her childhood, became almost intolerable in her teenage years. The visits from her family stopped completely after she turned fourteen, when her father's age prevented her from travelling the distance to the country estate and her brothers found themselves becoming more and more preoccupied with their work and studies. The occasional letter was all she had to remind her that she did still have a family outside of her aunt, though even they began to read more of an obligatory report of events rather than containing any real emotion.

_Father is doing well._

_Damon has almost taken over complete control of the lumber mill._

_Stefan is doing excellently in university and is well on his way to becoming a doctor._

More and more, she began to feel as though she was a Salvatore only in name alone.

She received her first kiss at the age sixteen, when her loneliness was eased somewhat in the form of Matthew Donovan, a boy from the local village just a few miles west of her aunt's estate. He was a sweet boy, with a crop of blond hair and a smile that seemed to light up a room, and he thought the world of her. Their courtship was brief but intense and, oftentimes, Caroline caught herself fantasizing of one day being married to him, though the rational side of her always won out in the end, reminding her that it was impossible. She was a lady of the high-ranking Salvatore family of London and he was a tavern worker, who spent his days serving ale and mopping up sick.

Uniting those two people in marriage would be nothing short of a scandal.

It didn't matter, though, in the end. He and his family moved away from the village three months after her seventeenth birthday. The taxes soared and they couldn't afford to pay for their tavern and so they migrated further north, to search their fortunes elsewhere. His tavern still stood in the village, under new management, and sometimes, even years later, in quiet moments of deep contemplation, she couldn't help but think about him, wondering where he was and if he ever thought of her just as much as she thought of him.

:-:

It was six months after her eighteenth birthday that everything changed.

She'd been sitting out in the gardens, basking in the afternoon sun as she read a book, a checked blanket spread out beneath her. The hurried pounding of footsteps called her attention from her novel and she glanced up to see her aunt's maidservant, Daisy, fast approaching her, her features a mask of urgency. She came to a halt about a pace from where Caroline was sitting and bowed her head to her briefly.

"Lady Caroline," she said, a tad breathless as her voice wavered nervously, "Your aunt wishes to speak with you. She's upstairs, in her study."

Her anxiety proved infectious as Caroline got to her feet abruptly and, with a sweep of her hands, smoothed down the creases in her skirt, "Did she say what she wanted?"

"No, my lady," the maidservant replied, shaking her head, "But it sounded quite important."

"All right. Thank you, Daisy," Caroline replied, patting her shoulder gratefully.

Lifting the hem of her dress slightly, Caroline took off back into the grand house and mounted the stairs to her aunt's study on the second floor. She paused for a moment and rapped lightly on the door with her knuckles, waiting for permission to enter.

"Come in," was her aunt's response and she pushed the door open.

Seated behind her desk, Elizabeth Forbes glanced up at her niece as she entered, her eyes rimmed red as though she was holding back tears; in her hands she held a letter, the jagged slant of the handwriting vaguely familiar, and she knew, almost instantly, that it was the reason behind her summons. Caroline opened her mouth, a question poised on the tip of her tongue but her aunt cut her off before she could voice it.

"It's from your brother - Damon," she said by way of explanation and there was a pregnant pause as she took a deep breath to collect herself, "It's your father. He's... He's dead. Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Caroline closed her eyes, waiting for the words to sink in and for the tidal wave of emotion to wash over her but it... didn't, she realized after a moment, simultaneously surprising her and not at all. She hadn't seen her father in little over four years and even before that his visits had remained sparse. He had become a stranger to her and she reacted to the news of his death the same way she would a distant relative or a friend of a friend, with mild shock and more sympathy for her aunt than for herself.

"How...?" Caroline whispered, opening her eyes to meet her aunt's gaze.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and glanced briefly at the letter again, "It says here that he passed away in his sleep a few nights ago. The funeral has already been held but - ah - your brother has written to ask that..." she paused again, exhaling a sigh, "He wants you come home, Caroline."

Though the notion of returning to London, even just for a few days, was one that sent a thrill of shock through her due to its irregularity, she couldn't help but understand his reasoning - given the circumstances, "Of course," she replied, nodding, "This is a time to be with family. My brothers and I should be together in our mourning. I'll go back for a week - maybe two, at most - and then I shall return here."

Elizabeth shook her head, "You misunderstand, darling. Damon doesn't want you to come back home for a visit, he and Stefan want you to return to London  _permanently_."

"What?" Caroline gasped, her brow crinkling in confusion, "Why?"

Her aunt stood and regarded her with a fond smile, "Because your brother wishes it and, since your father has passed, it is time for him to assume his role as the head of your family," she said simply, crossing the room until she was in front of her niece, one hand outstretched to cup her cheek, "I can understand, though I have enjoyed your company these many years. You were just a child when you first came here and now... now you have blossomed into the most beautiful, accomplished young woman."

"Because of  _you_ ," Caroline insisted, holding her aunt's hand to her cheek, " _You_ raised me, Auntie, and I don't want to leave you just because Damon wishes it so. I am not a dog. He cannot just  _click his fingers_ and I will come!"

"Oh, sweet Caroline. Your stubbornness was not something that has lessened with age," Elizabeth remarked with a mildly amused smile, "Fine, then. Don't go for Damon, go for me. You are a smart girl. You deserve more than this lonely life here, you deserve to be somewhere where you can flourish. London could be that place."

She nodded, feeling tears well up in the corners of her eyes. As much as she could - and would - argue with Damon's will, she could never do anything of the sort with her aunt's. This was the woman who took her in as her own and raised her, in place of both a father and mother, for ten years and Caroline would be damned if she did not respect her wishes.

"But I'll miss you," she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheeks despite her attempts to suppress them.

"Oh, my love," Elizabeth breathed, drawing her into a comforting hug, "I'll miss you, too."

They stood like that for a long moment, locked in an embrace, each trying and failing to quell their own tears, until her aunt broke away first, sparing her a watery smile as she did so. From her sleeve, she withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed it lightly over Caroline's cheeks, drying up any lingering tears.

"Now I'll write back my nephew and tell him you'll be arriving within the week, you go upstairs and organize your things."

The younger blonde nodded, turning as she prepared to comply with her instructions but Elizabeth caught her arm and she glanced back at her aunt, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"You'll be all right, Caroline," she whispered to her, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her niece's ear, "I know you will."

Caroline smiled weakly, accepting her aunt's words, though she still found herself unable to shake the feeling of uncertainty that persisted to trouble her heart.

:-:

On the day of Caroline's departure from her aunt's estate the sky was overcast, threatening them all with rain. Dressed in a gown of periwinkle blue, Caroline slipped on her lace gloves and appraised her reflection in her full-length bedroom mirror. Daisy had commended her choice of outfit, but Caroline was unsure - after all, what did one wear to an unwilling homecoming? What did one wear to reunite with brothers she had not seen in close to five years?

She shook her head and secured her matching hat, with its thick pink ribbon, carefully atop her blonde curls. Around her, her room looked sparse, most of her belongings packed away in trunks that had been carted downstairs not fifteen minutes ago, although she couldn't help but feel comforted by the few possessions that still remained. Despite her aunt's insistence, Caroline had deliberately left behind some trinkets on her vanity table and three dresses still hung in her wardrobe. That way, though she may be absent, the room she grew up in could still, feasibly, be claimed as her own.

"Caroline! It's time to go!" her aunt's voice drifted up to her.

Fixing her reflection with a determined look, she inhaled a deep breath and tried her best to remember her aunt's words from just a few days before -  _'You'll be all right, Caroline. I know you will.'_ It had taken some effort on her part, but - slowly - she was starting to believe them.

Forcing herself not to grant her room a backwards glance, for fear that that alone would send her weeping and begging to stay, Caroline left her bedroom and went outside to where her coach dutifully awaited her. Her aunt and the house's four servants stood, ready to see her off, and she spared them all a collective smile of gratitude. She moved along the line they had assembled, granting them each their own personal goodbye, until she reached her aunt.

Elizabeth barely had any opportunity to speak before Caroline had thrown her arms around her neck in a fervent embrace, "Thank you," the younger blonde whispered into her aunt's shoulder, "For everything."

"Be sure to write to me," Elizabeth said, her smile adopting a tinge of sadness as they broke apart, "I love you. Remember that."

A lump of emotion arose in Caroline's throat and she struggled to speak past it, "I love you, too, Auntie."

"I know," her aunt replied, cupping her niece's face briefly in her hands, "Now, go. Go and make me proud, Caroline."

The younger girl nodded and, without another word, turned resiliently to the waiting coach. A stout middle-aged man held the door open for her and, murmuring her thanks to him, she got inside. The door closed with a resounding click behind her and Caroline closed her eyes as the driver mounted the steps to his seat. She heard a sharp  _'hyah'_ and the crack of a whip rang out. The horses gave a loud neigh and, with a clatter of hooves, they were off.

She didn't open her eyes until she was certain they were far enough away from her aunt's estate that it couldn't be seen, even from a distance. Settling back into her seat, she could feel the familiar sensation of tears bubbling too close to the surface and she swallowed thickly, in an effort to keep them at bay. She had to be strong.

After all, she was Lady Caroline Salvatore now, the only daughter of the late Lord Giuseppe Salvatore and the younger sister to Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

And she was going home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries.

Caroline inhaled a deep breath as she emerged from the coach, the bitter taste of smog, sooty yet oddly sweet, bringing a repulsed grimace to her lips. London was very bleak, she realized as she glanced around her, one eyebrow raised - grey and bleak. Perhaps she was simply too used to the green vibrancy of the countryside and needed to adjust. She was certain she would - in time.

The Salvatore mansion looked exactly the same as it did eleven years ago, on the day she departed from it. New spring tulips grew in the flower beds out front and thick green ivy crawled across the western wall but, other than that, nothing about it had changed. Nothing, except the occupants she had known in her youth. Behind her, she heard the grunts of the coachman as he struggled to unload her trunks. Lifting her skirts above her ankle, she hurried to help him, despite his insistence that he was fine.

"Caroline?"

At the sound of her name, carried to her by an unforgettable voice, she turned sharply on her heel, one hand raised to hold her hat in place. From the looming mansion, a familiar figure emerged, clad in a white shirt and brown pants with suspenders, his forest green eyes alight with happiness. She beamed as, together, they closed the distance between them. For an uncertain moment, they lingered, unsure of what would be an appropriate greeting, until - finally - her brother threw his arms around her, embracing her tightly.

"Stefan," she breathed into his shoulder, hugging him back.

He broke away first, taking a step back as he ran his eye over her in a silent appraisal, his hands still resting on her shoulders, "You look magnificent," he said, at last, "Are you truly the same girl who used to play in the mud in her best Sunday dresses?"

"Yes," she replied, exhaling a quiet laugh, "Though I have not done that for some time now. But what of you? My brother, the doctor. Is your practice faring well?"

At the mention of his work, Stefan's eyes lit up. He was devoted to it - to be a doctor, to help people in need, it had been his life's dream ever since he was a young boy poring over what heavy medical books their vast library had to offer. He had worked hard throughout his adolescence to achieve his goal, studying at Cambridge, and now that he had finished his formal education he had since taken over the practice wherein he had carried out his apprenticeship, handed down to him by the ageing physician.

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips, "It is. The people... they seem to like me and I like to think I am helping them as best I can."

"I'm so pleased for you, Stefan," Caroline beamed at him, her pride sincere.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and dipped his head, accepting her words, another emotion lighting up his eyes when he glanced up at her again, "I have something I need to tell you," he began, cryptically, and her brow furrowed in an expression caught somewhere between curiosity and apprehension.

"Is that her? Is she here?" another voice called out from within the depths of the house, accompanied by a series of hurried footsteps.

Caroline glanced over to her brother quizzically but he merely smiled at her, prompting her gaze back to the open doorway at the front of the mansion. A young woman, around her age, rushed towards her, beautiful and aglow with excitement. She wore a green dress, her straight brown hair loose and flowing down her back like a dark waterfall. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though Caroline couldn't quite place it.

"Caroline, this is the Lady Elena Gilbert, Grayson Gilbert's daughter," Stefan said, by means of explanation.

"Oh, of course," Caroline exclaimed in recognition.

The Gilbert family and the Salvatore family had always been very close during her formative years in London. Their two children, Elena and her younger brother, Jeremy, had often played with the Salvatore siblings during their youth, while their parents sat inside, discussing business over tea. In fact, if Caroline remembered correctly, it had been Grayson Gilbert's practice that Stefan had served his apprenticeship at.

"It's so good to see you again!" Elena said, embracing Caroline.

However, even as Caroline hugged her back, she couldn't help but wonder why she was here.

"Have you told her?" Elena asked as they broke apart, glancing over her shoulder at Stefan.

Caroline looked at him, her gaze travelling down to where her brother's hand found Elena's, their fingers interlocking.

"Caroline," Stefan began again, the strange emotion creeping back into his eyes as he looked down on Elena and it was only then that Caroline realized what it was: adoration, "Elena and I are engaged to be married."

The revelation washed over Caroline, taking her by surprise, "That's wonderful!" she managed to say once the words had sunk in, "When did this happen?"

"Well, he first asked me for my hand in January, though everything was only made official a few weeks ago," Elena replied, beaming happily, "We're to be married in the summer. Oh, I'm so thrilled you'll be able to share in the day with us, Caroline."

"As am I," the blonde replied, smiling as she embraced them both again in turn, expressing to them her congratulations - though she couldn't quite help the sliver of hurt that had wormed its way mercilessly into her heart.

Why hadn't Stefan told her? She wasn't even aware that he had been courting the Lady Elena, much less that he was considering her for marriage. Would it truly have been so difficult to have even mentioned it in a letter? More and more she felt like an outsider around those that were her family, her own blood, and the anxiety she held, deep in the pit of her stomach, whispered to her terrible reminders that that was unlikely to change.

It was as she broke away from Elena that she noticed the figure, obscured slightly by shadow, lingering still in the mansion's doorway. Stefan followed her gaze, glancing between the two of them warily, while Caroline swallowed and drew herself up to her full height.

"Damon," she greeted her eldest brother curtly, her chin raised.

She remembered times, from years ago, when she would have squealed his name in delight, rushing into his arms and he would have hugged her fervently, as if never wanting to let her go. There were times when he drew laughter from her, but now all she felt was a heavy sense of trepidation as he left his post by the door and approached her, clad in a suit that made him look very formal in comparison to Stefan's distinctly casual attire. He looked older, much older than twenty-four, and he carried himself in a way that suggested he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Caroline," he nodded to her when he came to a stop about a pace from her. He made no move to embrace her, nor she to him. His striking blue eyes, so much like their mother's, looked over silently, "You look well."

"I am well," she replied, forcing on a small, polite smile, "I trust you are well, too. I understand that you must have been under a lot of pressure recently what with everything that's happened. You and Stefan both," she added, sparing her other brother a meaningful glance.

"It was nothing we couldn't handle," Damon affirmed, rather haughtily, before he looked over at the brunette girl present, "Elena, perhaps you wouldn't mind showing my sister to her room and helping her to unpack. I have some matters I wish to discuss with my brother."

"Of course, come with me," Elena smiled, looping her arm through Caroline's and leading her up into the house while two servants followed them with all of her luggage.

Elena took her up to a bedroom on the second floor, surprising Caroline by just how well she knew the house. Entering the room, Caroline couldn't remember ever having been in it before, realizing - after a moment - that this was one of the many guest rooms their mansion had should they be entertaining visitors over a lengthy period of time. The servants placed her luggage in her room and dutifully began to unpack it, but Caroline dismissed them with a smile, thanking them for all their help thus far and assuring them that she would be fine. They bowed their heads to her and left without another word.

"You have a lovely view of the gardens," Elena commented as she pulled apart the curtains and gazed out onto the landscape.

Glancing out at the sprawling greenery, to Caroline, it almost looked as though she were still at her aunt's estate and, just outside, there was wide open space for her to roam around in - but then, in the distance, she could see the grey peaks of factories and the harsh reality came crashing down around her again. So she merely hummed softly, in acknowledgement of Elena's remark, and busied herself with the task of stowing away the dresses she'd brought.

"It must be very strange for you, being back here after all these years," Elena noted, coming around the four-poster bed to help Caroline unpack.

"It is," Caroline replied honestly, "I can't stop thinking about all the things that have changed."

Elena gave her a sympathetic look, "Well, the house hasn't changed much - everything's pretty much in the same place it's always been," she offered, optimistically, "Nor has things over at the lumber mill, should you go there. Damon's doing his best to run it just as your father did."

"There's a new King now, isn't there?" Caroline said suddenly, only now remembering sitting in the Donovan's tavern two years ago, as she visited Matthew at work, and hearing whispers of a revolution and a new man upon the throne; she turned to Elena in search of an answer, "King Mikael was ruler when I left."

"Oh, yes. King Niklaus - he was Mikael's son," Elena nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she began her tale, "You see, after his wife died - you remember Queen Esther, don't you?" Caroline nodded an affirmative, "Well, after she died three years ago from consumption, the King went rather mad. He introduced  _drastic_  new laws and the number of public executions increased - people were killed for the smallest of crimes," Elena paused, closing her eyes for a moment as if to ward away the terrible thoughts her story provoked in her, "It was, as you can imagine, a very worrying time, especially for those of us still in London."

"And Prince Niklaus incited a revolution against his father?" Caroline prompted gently.

"He did. He and his siblings banded together, though it was he who headed it. He got a great deal of support both in London and from the surrounding area," Elena replied and Caroline nodded, recalling talk of how men and women from the village near her aunt's estate had migrated closer to the capital in order to take a stand, "In the end, it was an easy win for him. He executed his father, on the grounds of committing crimes against England and its people, and a week later he had taken the throne."

"And is he a good King? King Niklaus?" Caroline asked the dark-haired girl, one eyebrow raised to her questioningly.

"I think so. And so do your brothers," Elena replied, rising from the bed and taking a step towards the other girl, "I'm not sure if you know but they're quite close with the King - Stefan, especially."

Caroline looked at Elena with surprise. The Salvatore family had always been prestigious in good society, but never before had it been linked to royalty. Elena noted the blonde's shock and took it upon herself to elaborate.

"Oh, yes. They met when Stefan mended his sister's broken arm about a year back after she was thrown from her horse. The King was so grateful that he invited Stefan for dinner at the palace and they have been best friends ever since," she shrugged and smiled, "They're almost inseparable these days."

Caroline shook her head. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting, upon her arrival to London, but never had she anticipated on finding out that her brothers were both members of the King's inner circle. She opened her mouth, preparing to voice another question, when suddenly there was a polite knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," Caroline called out.

The door opened and an elderly gentleman stood in her doorway, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. Caroline felt herself smile when, after a moment, she recognized him as the same wizened butler that had been employed in her family's service since she was a child.

"Apologies for the interruption, Lady Caroline," he said, bowing his head to her respectfully, "But Master Salvatore requests that the Lady Elena join him in his study."

"Of course. Thank you, Carson," Elena interjected before Caroline had a chance to reply. She turned and enveloped the other girl in another hug, one of comfort and reassurance, "I'll see you at dinner, Caroline," she said to her before she left the room, the door shutting with a resounding click behind her.

:-:

Whether it was due to her presence or not, dinner, that night, was an awkward affair.

The four of them sat at the long dining table, Damon at one end and Stefan at the other, while Elena and herself were seated opposite each other in the middle. The meal, itself, was exquisite - the pheasant cooked to perfection and complimented by an array of spices - though a tense atmosphere hung over them all as silence filled the room, broken only by the scraping of utensils on plates.

"I trust your journey here went well?" Damon spoke up as he lifted his fork to his lips.

Caroline glanced up at the question and nodded, "Yes, the weather remained pleasant and I hardly noticed the time go by at all," she took a sip of her water and swallowed thickly, looking between her siblings, "Our aunt sends her love to you both as well."

"How is Aunt Elizabeth?" Stefan asked her, with a good-natured smile.

"She is well," Caroline replied, glancing back down at her plate.

The mention of her aunt drew her mind back to the tranquillity of the country estate, to how - at this very moment, perhaps - her aunt would be sitting down to her own meal, alone for the first time in almost eleven years. She chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of food, but found it impossible to swallow past the lump that arisen suddenly in her throat. Despite the fact that her aunt had insisted she go, guilt still gnawed painfully at Caroline's insides and, as she sat in the dining room of the Salvatore mansion, she wanted nothing more than to flee back to the home in which she grew up.

"Stefan, you met with the King yesterday?" Damon was speaking again, pausing briefly to take a sip of wine, "How is he?"

"Good," her brother nodded, "Busy finalizing the preparations for his birthday ball next week."

"Oh, I already have the perfect dress for the occasion," Elena chipped in, exchanging a smile with her fiancé.

"How are things at the mill?" Stefan asked his brother and it was then that Caroline could take no more of it.

"I'm sorry," she interjected, before Damon had a chance to reply, "But I'm afraid I'm feeling quite exhausted. May I be excused?"

She glanced to Damon, who looked oddly hesitant, until Stefan cut in with a knowing, "It's understandable - you did have a long journey."

Some of the hardness in her eldest brother's expression melted away around the edges and he nodded once, granting her his permission. She wasted no time in seizing it as she got to her feet quickly, her chair scraping back noisily along the floor as she did so, and she all but fled from the room, leaving her dinner still half-eaten on her plate. She could only hope that the cook would not be  _too_ offended.

Once she was free of the dining room and safely back in the confines of her own bedroom, she leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, content - for the moment - in her solitude. She crossed to her window seat and sat down amongst the plush cushions, drawing her knees up to her chest. Reaching up with one hand, she pried the window open a crack and allowed the cool breeze to float in and wash over her. It still tasted bitterly of smog, though it did wonders to comfort her as she tried to process just why she found readjusting to a world, that was supposedly her own, such a struggle.

A part of her reasoned, sensibly, that she just needed more time to properly assimilate, while another part of her fed her fears through nasty whispers.  _You'll never belong with them_ , it said, over and over again, like a chilling mantra,  _they don't want you_. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing it to fall silent and it worked - for the time being, at least.

Exhaling a world-weary sigh, she rested her head against the cold glass of the window and gazed up at the silvery sliver of a moon that hung in the sky - the same one she imagined her aunt and all the others at the estate would be looking up at as well.

A sad smile tugged at her lips. "I miss you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

:-:

"Are you insane? Our father has been dead only a week and already I hear you're accepting invitations to  _parties_!"

Without knocking, Caroline burst into Damon's room a few days after her return to London, shocked to find him standing in front of a triad of mirrors, fingers moving deftly as he fastened his bow tie. To his left, his valet stood with his arms outstretched, holding out his suit jacket for him. Damon did not turn to look at his sister, instead merely sparing her reflection the briefest of glances before he returned his attention to himself.

"Leave us," he ordered his valet in a flat tone.

The smaller man nodded to her brother, carefully laying his master's suit jacket atop his meticulously made bedclothes before he bowed his head quickly to Caroline and hurried out of the bedroom. From directly behind her, she heard the resounding click as the door closed behind him, granting her and Damon a moment of privacy. A thrill of surprise shot through her when she realized this was the first time she and Damon had been alone together, in a room, in almost eleven years.

He turned where he stood, though he still did not meet her gaze as he crossed the room purposely to his liquor cabinet. Caroline watched as he poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. In those tense moments, the gentle clink of the lid as he replaced it on the decanter was all that disturbed the thick, enveloping silence. Taking a sip of his drink, he regarded her coolly from over the rim of his glass.

"The invitation was from the King, for his birthday," he explained, evenly, punctuating his reply with a leisurely sip, "It would have been a terrible mistake to reject it. If it makes you feel any better, had it been anyone else, I would have told them we were unable to attend."

Caroline shook her head, her lips thinning into a single line in her utter disbelief, "What do you mean 'we'?" she shot back, her eyes snapping up to meet his the minute his words had sunk in, "You cannot possibly think  _I'm_  going to attend - unlike you, I intend to retain at least  _some_  shred of propriety during this time of bereavement."

Her words were biting and she knew it, refusing to repent for it even when she saw her brother's nostrils flare in exasperation. "The invitation was for the Salvatore  _family_. And, as a member of our family, you  _will_  be in attendance," he retorted firmly, knocking back the remainder of his bourbon and swallowing it thickly, "You should dress up nicely, Caroline. Who knows, tonight we may even find you an acceptable suitor."

Fresh rage flowed through her and she drew herself up to her full height, indignantly, "I'm only back home, Damon, and already you plan to  _marry me off_?!"

"Caroline," Damon said, walking stiffly back to his mirrors without even throwing her a backwards glance, "You know it is your duty to this family to marry well."

Her upper lip curled in distaste, "And how do you plan to choose me a husband?" Caroline returned snappishly, her hands balling into angry fists by her sides, "Will you simply pick the highest bidder? If Father were alive, I highly doubt he would approve of you  _whoring me out_."

In her anger, she didn't remember marching forward until, at the precise moment the barb struck him, Damon whipped around to face her angrily, his face inches from hers as he jabbed the air with an accusatory finger, "That is where you are wrong, sister. Father would approve of me doing  _whatever_  is necessary to ensure that the Salvatore name remains prestigious and you making a good marriage would do wonders for our family," he hissed while Caroline stared at him, green eyes wide.

A long minute passed, in which they simply stared at each other, before Damon seemed to realize the break in his composure and he immediately straightened, smoothing down the ruffles in his demeanour as he cleared his throat, "Now, stop being so dramatic and go dress, Caroline," he ordered, crossing to where his suit jacket lay on his bed and he slipped into it effortlessly, "I expect you to look your best tonight."

"But of course,  _my lord_ ," Caroline replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as, turning sharply on the back of her heel, she left his room.

:-:

In the end, Caroline knew it was pointless to argue any further with her brother. Which was why she found herself in the grand hall of the King's palace, that evening, clad in a dress of ivory silk, her blonde curls hanging loosely by her shoulders - despite her maidservant's persistent protests that she do more with it for such a special occasion. She stood with her back rigidly straight, her hands clasped - white-knuckled - in front of her and a frown weighing on her features as she gazed out at the crowd of elaborately-dressed dancers. Though she could not see them, she knew Stefan and Elena twirled amongst them, completely absorbed in their own bubble of happiness.

She was yet to see King Niklaus. His golden throne, mounted high upon a platform in the centre of the room, had remained vacant since she had arrived with her brothers near two hours before. The two smaller, but no less opulent, thrones either side of his, however, had remained occupied throughout as two women watched the proceedings with not a word ever passing between them. In the one that would have been to the king's left sat a beautiful young woman dressed in black and emerald green, an ornate golden crown sitting on top a mane of dark wavy hair; while, to his right, another woman sat primly, a few years younger than her companion, judging by her youthful appearance, clad in a deep blue dress with silver stitching, a tiara embedded with opals placed neatly atop a head of blonde hair woven into a braid.

The music died down to a moment of silence as the dancers parted, exchanging bows and curtsies. A handful of people left the main floor, ebbing off to the sides to the promises of food and drink. The orchestra began again, a slow melody filling the air. A man, who looked around ten years her senior, approached her and offered her his hand in a silent request for a dance. She shook her head, feigning tiredness as her excuse, and he turned away her from her, looking sufficiently snubbed.

"You know," Damon said, sidling up to her, having evidently just witnessed her rejection of a potential suitor, "You could stand to look a little less miserable."

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him and she forced an exaggerated grin onto her features for the briefest of seconds before she let her annoyance at his complaint shine through. He made an exasperated tutting noise as he leaned away from her, rolling his eyes at her as he mumbled something about her immaturity. At that, Caroline gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to kick him in the shin - though barely.

"Damon Salvatore," a new voice cut in, sounding more like a seductive purr than anything else. In unison, the two siblings glanced up to see a dark-haired woman approaching them, "Or should I say  _Lord_ Salvatore."

She offered him a gloved hand and he raised it to his lips, "Lady Katherine," he greeted her, lips curving up into a smirk, "Lovely to see you, as always. I don't suppose you remember my sister, the Lady Caroline?"

Damon gestured to her with a flourish and Katherine's eyes lit up in recognition, "Of course I do! We used to play together as children."

And suddenly, everything clicked in Caroline's mind. In front of her stood Lady Katherine Gilbert, Elena's cousin and their elder by around three years. Caroline was shocked that she had failed to note the family resemblance before then as Katherine was also in possession of the brown eyes and olive complexion of Stefan's fiancé. She looked simply radiant that evening, wearing a strikingly scarlet dress with black satin gloves, her dark curls piled on top of her head with only a few loose strands hanging down to frame her beautiful face.

"It has been a long time, Caroline," Katherine remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"It has," Caroline agreed, "Almost eleven years, in fact."

Katherine nodded contemplatively before she turned to Damon, suddenly serious, "Before I forget, Lord Salvatore, my mother is looking for you. I don't know what for but it sounded like a matter of some urgency."

Damon's brow furrowed, no doubt curious as to what it could be in regards to, but he nodded solemnly nevertheless, "Of course, I'll go find her now. Excuse me," he bowed his head to them both, in turn, before departing into the crowd.

Caroline watched him go, chewing nervously on her bottom lip for a second, before she glanced over at Katherine, "I do hope everything's all right with your mother."

Katherine huffed out a laugh as she threw Caroline a conspiratorial grin, "Oh, don't worry, it is. She's not even looking for him. I just thought we would have a better chance to catch up if he wasn't hovering over us," she replied and Caroline threw her a smile, Katherine's eye appraising her unabashedly, "You look well for someone who spent the last decade of their life on a  _farm_ , by the way."

"It wasn't a farm," Caroline corrected, gently, "It was an estate in the country."

"Still," Katherine countered teasingly, fluttering a fan in front of her face, "I half-expected you to return as some uneducated hick after being away from civilization so long."

Caroline giggled, shaking her head at the other girl. Though her memories from a decade ago were understandably hazy, Katherine's wicked sense of humour was something that was not easily forgotten and she grinned when she saw that it was still intact. In a way, it was oddly comforting to her that - despite everything - small things like that remained remarkably unchanged, especially when so much else was still bizarrely new and foreign to her.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint," Caroline replied in between laughter, dipping briefly into a smooth curtsy.

Katherine smirked at her and looped her arm through the blonde's, "So," she began, glancing around them at the throng of people, "How are you adjusting to life back among the city folk? I assume you've heard of your brother's engagement to my delightful little cousin?"

"Of course," Caroline nodded, "They make a lovely couple."

Katherine made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat and pulled a slight face, "I suppose so. If you are so invested in that idea of a 'one true love.'"

"Which, I assume, you are not," Caroline countered with a raised eyebrow.

"Well of course not, darling. Not when I have suitors lined up from all over the country," she shot back, a mischievous twinkle alight in her brown eyes.

Caroline giggled, enjoying the feeling of - for the first time since returning to London - being completely at ease around another person. Though she did find it odd that it was around the brazen Lady Katherine and not whilst in the company of her brothers, nor her future sister-in-law, she had to admit that perhaps this was the first step until total assimilation was achieved once again.

"Katherine," she said after a moment, curiosity colouring her tone, "Who are those two women up there?"

She nodded towards the platform which still held the King's unoccupied throne, the two women that had caught her attention earlier looking as though they would rather be anywhere else. Katherine followed her gaze, recognition quickly overcoming her features as she used her fan to cover her mouth as though she were about to impart, unto Caroline, some little known secret.

"The one with the dark hair? Oh, that's the King's wife, Queen Tatia. She's a Bulgarian princess from the east - cannot speak a  _word_  of English, or so I hear," she shrugged, lowering her voice even further to an almost conspiratorial whisper, "It's not as though he loves her or anything of the sort. The King only married her for the trade links."

Caroline bit her lip, feeling a wave of sympathy wash over her for the dark-haired girl. Here she was, in a foreign land, sent there on the whims of her father - or perhaps her brother - all for the purpose of establishing links with another powerful family. In her own way, Caroline could relate.

"And the blonde?" Caroline prompted, sparing Katherine a questioning glance.

"Ah, a witch if there ever was one," Katherine replied, the contempt in her voice almost palpable, "That's Princess Rebekah, the King's sister. She's one of the most detestable people to ever walk this Earth but the King is very protective of her. Probably because she is the only one of his siblings who stuck around after he took the throne from their father. I'm assuming you know of the great revolution that took place here a few years ago?"

Caroline nodded an affirmative.

"Good," Katherine commended her, with a smile, "Well, after that happened, his eldest brother, Finn, went to join with the church up in Scotland. His other brother, Prince Elijah, moved up North too - though he retained his title. He lives in one of the royal estates up there but he rarely attends functions such as these - it's a shame, really, he's a terrifically handsome gentleman. And the King's younger brother, Kol—well, he uses his title to flit between the French and Spanish courts - though I heard recently that he's decided to try out Greece for a spell. Oh, no."

Katherine's sudden change in tone made Caroline nervous, "What?" the blonde asked her, eyebrows raised in alarm.

The brunette giggled mischievously, "Oh, it seems your brother has realized my deception," she replied and Caroline followed her gaze to see Damon making their way through the crowd towards them, "I'm afraid I must be off - he does look quite cross. It was lovely seeing you again, though, Caroline, I hope that sometime we may have tea."

Caroline barely had the chance to bid her farewell before she had vanished from her side. Her eyes found Damon, watching as he came to a stop in the middle of the crowd, a look of confusion passing over his features as he processed Katherine's sudden disappearance before he took off in the opposite direction. Caroline ducked her head to hide the smile that came to her lips at the Lady Katherine's actions, as she cherished the feeling that perhaps, during all this upheaval in her life, she might just have found a friend in the midst of it all.

"Lady Caroline?" an unfamiliar voice caught her attention and she turned at the sound of it.

To her left, a man stood with his hands clasped tightly behind the back of his expensive suit. He looked around Stefan's age, maybe a year younger, his dark hair slicked back meticulously; he wore an amiable lopsided grin as he regarded her, one that reached his brown eyes. He was not unhandsome, that much she could not question, though there was an element of surety in his posture, one that bordered dangerously on an intolerable arrogance.

"Yes?" she said, her brow furrowed in confusion at his familiarity with her, "I'm sorry, have we met?"

He took a step towards her and exhaled a chuckle, "No, but I'm friends with your older brother, Damon," he dipped into a brief bow, catching her hand in his and raising it to his lips, "I am the Lord Tyler Lockwood, my family owns the textile factory in the city."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Lockwood," Caroline replied, doing her best to keep her composure polite as she forced on a smile.

The feeling of someone watching them drew her gaze to the crowd. Her green eyes met the striking blue of her brother's before he quickly looked away and she frowned at him, her cheeks growing red in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. So, this was all part of Damon's convoluted plan to marry her off to a respectable suitor. Why was she not surprised? All of a sudden, as if the universe were working against her, the band struck up a melodious waltz and the Lord Lockwood offered his hand to her.

"My lady, will you do me the honour of accompanying me for a dance?" he asked her, the corner of his mouth plucked up into a smirk.

"Oh, I..." she swallowed thickly, "I apologize, Lord Lockwood, but I'm feeling quite tired."

"Oh." For a split-second, he actually looked deflated, before a stroke of inspiration overcame him, "Well then, perhaps you'll allow me to sit with you? Your brother has told me all about you and I would quite like to get to know you better."

Caroline opened her mouth to formulate some sort of response, wringing her hands nervously, when suddenly she had no need to. Another man had cut in between them, a oddly triumphant smirk dimpling his features. He looked around around six or seven years her senior, well-built with dark blonde hair and blue eyes, though she couldn't help but notice that he carried himself with even more arrogance than the Lord Lockwood, who had grown strangely silent. She glanced over to him to see that he had frozen, his hands still half-outstretched towards her in a wordless plea for her company.

"Apologies, Lord Lockwood," the stranger interjected smoothly, "But the lady had previously promised me this dance."

The stranger's eyebrows were raised, as if daring Lord Lockwood to challenge him. He didn't seem keen to do anything of the sort, though, as his mouth opened and closed dumbly a few times before he mumbled out a hurried, "Of course," and bowed his head humbly.

Caroline glanced wildly between the two of them, without the faintest idea of what was happening as the stranger took her hand in his warm, calloused one and guided her out onto the floor. People seemed to part for them as they joined the dance and, after a moment, she became suddenly aware of whispers being exchanged, hidden behind hands and fans.  _What was happening?_  The question repeated in her mind, over and over, as her years of dance lessons suddenly flooded back to her and, acting on muscle memory alone, her hand came up to rest on the shoulder of her new partner, the other still clasped firmly in his.

It was only when he spoke again did her mind snap back to reality, leaving her alert as a cool exterior shrouded any easily exploited vulnerabilities.

"I do hope you'll forgive me for my abruptness, my lady," he was saying and she drew her gaze from her surroundings to meet his penetrating blue stare, "But I thought I would save you the misfortune of having to dance with Lord Lockwood. Alas, he isn't as good as he thinks he is."

Again she was struck with the man's arrogance and she raised her chin slightly in response, "I like to think I was doing just fine rebuffing his advances on my own," she retorted, as they span in rhythm with the music, violins filling the air.

He threw her an amused smirk, "Perhaps," he allowed, tilting his head to her in a brief gesture of concession; he scrutinized her then, blue eyes burning into the very depths of her soul as she resisted the temptation to look away and willed any pinkness from her cheeks, "I do have a question for you, though, now that I have your attention," he said, at last, and she raised an eyebrow at him curiously, "I was just wondering why a beautiful young woman, like yourself, would be off to the side instead of enjoying the festivities? An invitation to the King's birthday celebrations is one of the most sought after things in the kingdom, after all."

"Well, perhaps I did not want to come," she shot back, her answer - or maybe the bluntness with which she said it - taking him by surprise.

"Why not?" he pressed, after a moment.

"Because my brother is using this event as an excuse to find me a suitor. Lord Lockwood was one such candidate, in fact, so I doubt he will be too thrilled when he finds out that you scared him off," she remarked, with some amusement, allowing the corner of her lips to lift into a faint smirk.

"And what makes you think I am not a better candidate than Lord Lockwood?" he countered easily.

"Because I do not know you," she said, exhaling a laugh, "Just as I do not know Lord Lockwood."

Again, her answer seemed to shock him. "You're not from around here, are you," he stated rather than asked her as the music died down and they came to a stop. All around them, people were bowing and curtsying to one and other, thanking their partners for the privilege of a dance, but she and the stranger stood still, his gaze unwavering as he regarded her.

"No," she replied, her hand still in his though the dance had ended, "Not for many years now."

"Nik."

All of a sudden, Stefan was there with them, hovering by the stranger...  _Nik's_  elbow and watching them both with a curious expression. At the sound of his voice, Caroline turned to him, surprised to see him without Elena, though a quick glance around the room confirmed she was, at present, deeply engaged in a conversation with her cousin. She watched, eyebrows raised in surprise, as Nik reached out a hand, clapping her brother's shoulder in an amiable fashion.

"Nik, I see you've met my sister, the Lady Caroline," he introduced her, sparing her a reassuring smile.

"Caroline," he echoed with a wolfish grin, drawing her name out as though he was doing his best to savour each and every syllable, "Yes, your brothers have told me quite a bit about you. It has been lovely meeting you at last."

Decorum ruled over her as she dropped into a shallow curtsy, ducking her head to him, "The pleasure was mine, sir."

When she glanced up at him again, he was still smiling at her, his expression caught somewhere between bemusement and wonder, confusing her. She didn't know what she had done to merit such attention from this man and she glanced at Stefan to interject, but he appeared dumbstruck by their exchange as he stared at them both collectively, a furrow between his green eyes and his mouth half-agape. She almost nudged him, hoping to prompt him back to reality but Nik got there before she did.

"Well, my friend," he began, placing his hand on Stefan's shoulder, though his eyes remained fixed on her, "Lady Caroline, as delightful as this has been, I'm afraid I must off. I have some duties I must attend to. Thank you for the dance."

He flashed her a grin, showing off each of his teeth, before he disappeared, refusing to give her time to even think of a response, much less say it. Caroline watched him go for a moment before she whipped around to look at Stefan, demanding an explanation.

"Caroline, do you know who that was?" Stefan asked her once he had found his voice again.

She was about to shake her head and ask for the man's identity when a stout man with a large booming voice ascended to the raised platform where the three thrones stood.

"And now, His Majesty, the King!"

The man gestured with a flourish and Caroline looked to where he was pointing, horrible realization sinking in as the the stranger—Nik— _King Niklaus_ walked onto the platform and an incredible hush fell over the room as everyone waited to hear what he had to say. Caroline glanced to where her brother stood by her shoulder, eyes wide, and he nodded in confirmation. The King. She had been dancing with  _the King_.

King Niklaus spread his arms out, the corners of his lips plucked up into a smile, "Friends. Family," he paused briefly to look meaningfully back to where the blonde girl - Princess Rebekah, his sister - sat, "I thank you all for being here this evening. And what a wonderful evening it has been!"

As he spoke, several servants wove their way through the crowd, carrying silver trays of glasses of wine for each guest to take. Caroline lifted her glass and held it in her gloved hand, her head spinning as she continued to listen to the toast the King was making.

"To all my old friends, thank you for enduring my company for another year," he paused, grinning as his quip was met with a rumble of laughter, "And to all my new friends, some of whom I have met only tonight," he thrust the glass he was holding into the air and Caroline felt her cheeks burn red as, somehow through the crowd, he levelled his penetrating gaze on her, "To another year, in which I hope to get to know you better."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries.

The first gift came the morning after the ball.

She had been sitting at the desk in her bedroom, fountain pen poised contemplatively over her stationary as she thought of what to write, in a letter, to her aunt. Part of her wanted to let brutal honesty flow through her mercilessly, allowing her to fully document the miserable few days she had experienced at the mansion since her arrival back to London. The other part of her, however, argued incessantly against it, reasoning that lies and half-truths would be kinder and do more to ease the worries that her aunt no doubt held in her heart for her niece.

It was a perplexing dilemma. And, as ink dripped from the nib of her pen to form a sizeable stain on her paper, she was almost glad of the distraction when her maidservant knocked on her door.

"Come in," she called to her, tongue poking out from between her teeth as she tried to blot away the ink - to little avail.

Her maidservant, Lucy - a petite red-headed girl, only a year younger than herself - opened the door and hurried inside, bowing her head to Caroline respectfully. In her hand she held a flat black box, bound by an ivory ribbon. Caroline's brow furrowed at the sight of it and she cast a questioning glance towards the girl, quietly wondering of the parcel's origins. Wildly, she wondered if she had been away for so long that her brothers had forgotten that her birthday was in October, not March.

"A man left this off for you a few moments ago, my lady," Lucy said, advancing forward a few steps and holding the box out to her; she paused to glance around and, though there was no one but them in the room, she dropped her voice to an excited whisper, "He said it came from the palace!"

For a long minute, her explanation did little to ease the ever growing curiosity in Caroline's mind, as she wondered who at the palace had any business in sending her gifts, until - finally - it all clicked and a terrible understanding washed over, leaving her slightly numb. The events of the ball the night before came flooding back to her all at once and, suddenly, her heart started to thrum loudly in her ears. She looked up at Lucy and forced on a smile.

"Thank you, that will be all," she said and Lucy nodded to her, scurrying out of the room.

It was only as her bedroom door shut firmly behind her that Caroline returned her attention to the box, lifting the letter that accompanied it with trembling fingers. Her own name stared back at her on the envelope, written in elaborate loopy handwriting _'I_ ; she turned it over, breaking the red wax seal that was marked by the royal crest. Inside, there was a single piece of paper with only a few sentences written on it, all in the same elegant script as before. Sucking in a deep breath, she started to read.

' _Lady Caroline -'_ it began:

_'I hope that, despite your reluctance to attend, the ball last night was not a complete misery for you. I know, for me, it was a pleasure to finally meet you - after only knowing you through what your brothers have told me for so very long. You exceeded every expectation I had and more. I was thinking about how little time we had to speak last night and I was hoping, if you will allow it, to someday have the opportunity of getting to know you better._

_Until then, however, I ask you to please accept this token from me, for granting me the pleasure of your company last night. I hope it is to your liking, though please do not delay in telling me if it is not. You deserve only the best._

_Fondly,  
Klaus'_

Caroline swallowed when she came to the end of the letter before her eyes travelled back up to the top and she read it all over again - just for good measure. She shook her head - the letter no more believable the second time around - and she peeked over the top of the page to where the box sat on her desk, the ivory ribbon embroidered with swirls of gold thread. A heavy stone of nervous anticipation lay deep in the pit of her stomach, as she reached out a hand and carefully undid the ribbon, lifting the lid from the box.

She gasped as the object within caught the morning sunlight, glinting madly. Nestled inside, amidst satin folds, was an opulent gold filigree necklace embedded with a single large ruby in which she could see her own shocked reflection looking back at her. She slammed the lid back down onto the box, squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. Inhaling deeply, she opened her eyes a crack and lifted the lid again. The same necklace stared back at her from inside.

Her mind was spinning and a rather sizeable lump had arisen in her throat. She could scarcely comprehend what this meant.  _'I was hoping, if you will allow it, to someday have the opportunity of getting to know you better.'_ She bit her bottom lip - could it be? Of all the ladies of the country, of all the women he could have chosen from, was the King actually courting  _her_?

She glanced down at the gold necklace and ran a careful fingertip around the gem that dominated it, wondering at how much it would have cost until her mind wandered to how many other women had received something just like it. How many other women had caught the King's attention at a ball, or some other royal function, only to be blessed with an extravagant gift the morning after? To how many others had he issued his desire to get to know them better? She was willing to bet more than a few.

A flare of indignation rose up deep inside her, spitting sparks, as she quickly replaced the lid atop the box and redid its ivory ribbon far more clumsily than either he, or the servant he had commissioned for the task, had done it. Regardless of whether the King was courting her or not, Caroline Salvatore had never been one whose affections could be so easily bought with fancy trinkets and expensive baubles - no matter how beautiful they may be.

Rising from her desk, she walked purposefully to her bedroom door, with the gift still in hand. As she expected, Lucy lingered just outside in the hallway, waiting dutifully to see if her employer had any reply she would like relayed back to the palace. Her eyes darting up and down the corridor, checking for any sign of Damon or Stefan, the blonde watched as her maidservant's eyes rose in a mix of surprise and confusion when she pressed the box back into her waiting hands.

"Please see that this is returned to the palace with my apologies - would you?" Caroline requested, sparing the girl a small smile.

"Oh. I mean, yes. Of course, my lady," Lucy agreed, ducking her head to her once before hurrying off.

Caroline watched her until she had disappeared down the stairs and prayed that Lucy did not run into either of her brothers - the last thing she needed was for them to know she was receiving lavish gifts from the King. She closed her bedroom door and leaned her forehead against it, focusing - for a moment - on the art of simply breathing. Once she could be sure she was settled, that the surreality she felt after opening the gift had passed, she turned to face the empty expanse of her room.

There was a knock at her bedroom door and she jumped at the sound of it. Her heart hammering in her chest, she whipped around to open it, half-expecting Damon to be standing there, with the King's gift in his hands, demanding an explanation. To her intense relief, however, she saw that it was Elena, wearing a white cotton dress and a bright smile.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," she said, adjusting the way her crimson shawl sat on her shoulders, "But I was hoping you wouldn't mind accompanying me for a walk? It's such a beautiful day outside."

Caroline smiled at her, "Of course," she agreed, very glad of the timely distraction.

:-:

The second gift came near two weeks after the first.

A glorious noon sun hung high in the sky and Caroline basked in its warmth as she lay, outstretched on her stomach, on a chequered blanket. A novel from the library was clasped tightly in her hands, providing her with sufficient entertainment as the words carried her off to faraway lands on thrilling adventures.

Caroline was certain that, of all the hours in the day, this time was her favourite. The time of day when her brothers were at work - Damon holed up in his office at the lumber mill, Stefan tending to the people who came into his practice. The time of day when she could roam the halls of the Salvatore mansion freely, without running the risk of any awkward encounters with the siblings who, despite having lived with her again for almost three weeks, still did not seem to know how to react to her. Their every interaction was layered with a thick tension.

Stefan tried. He asked her questions and made conversation - he tried to get to know the woman she had become in her years of absence. Elena was proving a great help in the careful rebuilding of their relationship, acting as a buffer and employing her well of boundless optimism to quell any disagreements before they had the chance to erupt, and Caroline found herself feeling a renewed wave of affection towards the girl who would soon become her sister-in-law.

Damon was different, to the point where - if Caroline had not seen the letter her aunt had received from him, requesting her immediate return to London - she would think he did not want her with them at all. He spent much of his time away from his family, either working late at the mill or shutting himself away in his study - it was the type of work-obsessed behaviour she remembered him complaining their father of doing, though she had yet to bring herself to point out his hypocrisy. Things weren't much better when he was around, however, as he persisted to push her towards his friend, Lord Lockwood, in the hopes of marriage, becoming impossibly cold when she continued to resist such a future.

"My lady?"

The sound of a softly demure voice disrupted her otherwise solitude in the garden. Caroline glanced up from her book, reaching up a hand to brush the hair away from her face. She smiled when she saw it was Lucy, though concern darkened her eyes when she saw that her maidservant looked nervous, glancing around the empty gardens anxiously and wringing her hands in the skirts of her black work dress.

"Is something the matter?" Caroline asked her, tilting her head to the side.

Lucy swallowed, teeth worrying for a moment on her bottom lip before: "There is another parcel for you in your room, my lady," she whispered and a heavy sense of trepidation filled Caroline's heart. It was either some token from Lord Lockwood or - "The man who left it off said it came from the palace again."

Caroline groaned and, marking her place in her book, she rose from the blanket, following Lucy up the stairs to her bedroom. A larger black box than before sat on her bed, bound again by an even thicker ivory ribbon. Taking a breath, she advanced forward a few steps and lifted the letter that accompanied the gift. The King's handwriting stared back at her, elegant but strangely bold in its own way. Quaking fingers opened the envelope, shaking the letter out.

 _'Lady Caroline'_ \- it began, the same as before:

_I was sorry to hear that my previous gift was not to your liking. Perhaps this is more to your taste._

_Fondly,  
Klaus'_

Though the words were minimal, they each struck a powerful resonance deep within her. Her eyes wandered to the black box and, feeling like she could delay it no longer, she undid the ivory ribbon and lifted the lid. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat - inside was the most beautiful gown she was certain she had ever seen. Made of a delicate chiffon, its colouring was a resplendently rich blue and, despite herself, she couldn't help but run her hands over the shimmering material and holding it up to get a better look at it. As she raised it into Lucy's view, she heard her maidservant give an audible gasp.

"Oh, my lady," she said in an awed whisper, coming forward with a oddly dreamy expression on her features, "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it."

"It  _is_ beautiful," Caroline murmured thoughtfully before returning to her senses abruptly.

Her fingers went limp and she let the dress fall back into its box, where it lay unceremoniously rumpled. The lid was hastily secured and the gift pushed into Lucy's hands so unexpectedly the girl almost dropped it in her surprise. Folding her arms across her chest, Caroline surveyed the black box with a mistrustful eye, the ribbon still carelessly undone so intense was her desire to be rid of it sooner rather than later, and the column in her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly.

"Take it back to the palace - please. Send my apologies with it," she said, well aware that her tone was unnecessarily short as she spoke and she could only hope that her faithful servant would not take too much offence to it.

"Of course, my lady," Lucy said, turning on her heel and hurrying obediently from the room, still balancing the box in her arms.

As her maidservant's footsteps faded into silence, Caroline spun around, her hands knotting themselves in her hair. She exhaled a sigh, hardly daring to believe just how close she had come to almost accepting his gift, and the connotations that no doubt accompanied it. She couldn't imagine the trouble he must have gone to to procure it, the time and the detail it would have taken for the seamstress to make it and a guilty part of her felt terrible for dismissing it so quickly. But she couldn't accept it -  _she couldn't_.

She collapsed back onto her bed and frowned up at the canopy that shrouded it. Let the King give it to the next girl who caught his eye. From what she understood from Stefan and Damon's dinner conversations, the royal hunt was beginning soon. Perhaps he would meet someone there who would be more receptive to his offers of courtship and he could leave her alone at last.

Caroline's lips twisted and she spared the air a wry smile - she could only hope.

:-:

"This is, without a doubt, the most sinfully boring game I think I've ever played," Lady Katherine lamented, leaning her entire weight on her croquet mallet and watching as Caroline took aim, expertly knocking the ball through one of the series of hoops they had set up.

"You're only saying that because I'm winning," Caroline remarked in jest, straightening to throw the older girl a smile.

"No," Katherine sighed as she readied herself to take another shot, "I'm  _saying_  it because it's true."

The green ball hit against the edge of the silver hoop, spinning off in the opposite direction. Katherine rolled her eyes and shrugged, as if to say:  _what can you do?_ , seemingly content with the idea of it rolling away into the Gilberts' duck pond and being lost forever. Caroline shot her a look and deigned it upon herself to give chase, retrieving the ball and bringing it back to the game.

"Hooray," Katherine deadpanned.

"If you hate this game so much, then why, pray tell, did you suggest we play it?" Caroline asked her, raising an eyebrow at her pointedly.

Katherine forced on a smile, "Because, my darling Caroline, my parents are watching and they think I am the most perfectly well-mannered young lady there is so a perfectly well-mannered young lady is who I shall be. Hence this terribly  _dull_  game," she hit the ball again, letting out a stream of inventive curses when - once again - she failed to score it through the hoop.

She was mid-swear, however, when she caught herself suddenly, plastering on a sweet smile and raising her hand to wave back towards the house. Caroline tossed a glance over her shoulder, following her friend's gaze to where John and Isobel Gilbert sat visibly by the window of their drawing room, conversing (and sparing furtive looks towards their lively daughter) over tea. They matched her wave, as one, before returning their attentions to each other - at which point Katherine saw fit to let the smile slide from her features. Caroline ducked her head, unable to hide her amusement at the exchange.

"They're adamant that I find myself a husband," Katherine remarked, with a contemptuous roll of her eyes; she shook her head in exasperation, swapping her croquet mallet from one hand to the other, "Did I tell you they were even considering your brother as a potential suitor for me?"

Caroline blinked, taken aback by the revelation, "Who,  _Damon_?"

"The very same," Katherine replied, abandoning the game as she made her way to the garden's picnic table, already laden with cakes and a pitcher of cool lemonade; she wasted no time in pouring herself a glass, taking a sip from it as the afternoon sun beat down on them.

"What did you say?" Caroline couldn't help but ask.

Katherine's features adopted an exaggerated dreamy expression as she clutched her hand to her heart, "I said that I would be ever so  _honoured_  to finally become the great Damon Salvatore's doting little wife," she exclaimed and Caroline rolled her eyes at the sarcasm dripping palpably from her tone, "What do you think I said? No - of course. I mean, as delightful as your brother is to tease, Caroline, I could  _not_  imagine being married to him for the rest of my life."

She pulled a face which Caroline couldn't help but giggle at as she, too, finally dropped her croquet mallet and joined Katherine by the picnic table. "And what did your parents say when you told them all that?" the younger of the two girls asked, surveying their choice of cream cakes carefully before she selected one.

Katherine sighed and lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, "They told me I should stop eavesdropping at doors. But, enough about  _me -_ what about you, darling?" the brunette quirked a curious eyebrow at her, taking a sip from her lemonade, "Elena tells me your brothers are hoping to marry you off to Lord Lockwood."

"You heard correct," Caroline replied, pressing her lips together into an unimpressed line.

"Ah. Well, I pity you, Caroline - he's even more sinfully boring than that wretched game we were playing. I can't imagine being courted by him," Katherine remarked, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "At least his family owns the textile factory in town - why, you'll always have fabric for dresses."

"As is the quality every young woman looks for in her potential husband," Caroline shot back, with a giggle, before - quite suddenly - her laughter subsided and her face grew suddenly serious.

Katherine watched her curiously over the rim of her glass, "What is it? What's wrong?" she pressed her, her lips puckered into a frown.

Caroline blinked, catching her friend's look of concern, and she forced a smile back onto her features, "Oh, no, it's nothing. I just—" she took a deep breath, deciding that Katherine was as good a person as any to divulge her secret to, "I'm fairly certain that Lord Lockwood is not the only one interested in courting me."

"Oh?" Katherine's dark eyes gleamed, hungry for more information, "Who is this other suitor?"

The blonde girl hesitated palpably, top teeth worrying her bottom lip before she replied, in a voice little more than a whisper, "The King."

Katherine, who had been taking a sip of lemonade when Caroline's revelation broke the air, choked abruptly on her drink, "King Niklaus?!" she exclaimed, still spluttering slightly as she gripped the edge of the picnic table to brace herself.

"Yes," Caroline nodded, wringing her hands nervously, "We danced at the ball and ever since then he's been sending me gifts and letters, stating his wish to get to know me better. I've sent them all back, though—with my apologies. I have no desire to become his mistress."

"What have Damon and Stefan said?" Katherine asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I haven't told them. You are the only person I've told and you must  _promise_ me you will not breathe a word of this to  _anyone_ ," Caroline said, her green eyes wide and urgent.

"I promise - cross my heart and hope to die," Katherine said, with a light laugh, as she drew an imaginary cross over her left breast; in an instant, though, her expression shifted, becoming more solemn than Caroline had ever seen it as she reached out a hand to touch the youngest Salvatore's arm, "However you must promise me, Caroline, that you will tread carefully on this matter. King Niklaus... he has a certain - shall we say -  _talent_  for making women feel as though they are loved by him."

She inhaled a trembling breath, glancing around her quickly before she continued her tale, her voice lowered to a hurried whisper, "Last year, he courted the Lady Genevieve. A pretty thing, if slightly hard to bear at times—at any rate, their affair ended badly over something and, in his anger, the King banished her and her whole family from court. It's not the first time he did so, either. I just... I do not wish the same to happen to you."

"I promise I will be careful," Caroline assured her, taking her friend's hand in her own and squeezing it gently in an act of reassurance.

Katherine's smile returned, though it was less brilliant than before - tinged, now, with the gravity of her warning. "I like you too much to see you exiled from London in disgrace, Caroline," she said, patting her arm in an affectionate gesture before she glanced over her shoulder at their forgotten croquet mallets, "Now, come and let us finish this ridiculous game. I believe  _I_  was in the lead?"

:-:

"And this happens every spring and summer?" Caroline asked Elena, as the two of them stood in the gardens one April afternoon at the King's estate in Whitehall just outside of London, their arms firmly interlinked.

The sky above them was a brilliant azure blue, free of clouds, and tiny sparrows hopped happily from the branches of the old oak trees, chirping to each other merrily. All around them, horses neighed and dogs yapped for attention as their masters, clad almost uniformly in tweed coats and riding boots, marched around in exclusive groups of twos and threes, their shotguns slung over their shoulders. In deep tones, interspersed with raucous laughter, they shared their excitement for the afternoon's hunt and their anticipation that it could end up being their best one yet.

"Oh, yes. It's one of the King's favourite pastimes," Elena nodded in reply, drawing Caroline's attention from where a middle-aged man, with a particularly bushy moustache, was testing the weight of his shotgun, "Though this one is generally seen as being the most important of them all, seeing how it's the first hunt of the new season."

Caroline's eyebrows raised, the size of the crowd then slightly less surprising. She glanced over to where her brothers stood, unable to suppress a smile as she took in their own tweed coats and black riding boots. Ever since they were children, Stefan had always been a strong advocate of indoor activities. While she and Damon had climbed trees and made mud-pies in their good Sunday clothes (much to the everlasting despair of their long-suffering nursemaid, who seemed to be forever washing and mending their soiled shirts and dresses), Stefan had always preferred to sit in his room, or the library, either reading or writing in one of the many journals he had kept in his youth. To see him now, dressed for a hunt, was something she could not hide her amusement at.

"I would never have pictured this as your sort of thing, Stefan," Caroline remarked as much, reaching up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun's glare.

Stefan exhaled a quiet laugh, "It wasn't - at first," he admitted, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, "But you get used to it after a time."

Elena shook her head good-naturedly and, breaking away from Caroline, moved forward to straighten her fiancé's cuff, "What he means is, at least now, he can manage to stay atop his horse," she interjected smoothly, shooting a sly smirk over her shoulder, while Stefan spared them both a mock hurt expression, "I'm only teasing," she assured him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Oh - look. It's Lord Lockwood," Damon said suddenly, "Tyler!"

Caroline whirled around, following her brother's gaze to where - sure enough - the illustrious Lord Lockwood was angrily berating his stable boy, the vein in the lord's neck throbbing dangerously as he spoke. Under the assault, Caroline could see that the stable boy, who looked to be only on the cusp of turning fourteen, was doing his best to remain calm as he took his rebuke, though his hands, in which he held the reins to the mighty tawny stallion beside them, shook terribly.

"Tyler!" Damon tried again, this time earning the Lord Lockwood's attention.

The shift in his expression was almost scary, Caroline thought, as she watched the indignant fury melt away - to be replaced by an amiable grin as he strode over to them, extending his hand to Damon. Her brother accepted it and the two of them exchanged greetings while Caroline looked past them, to where the stable boy was leading Tyler's horse to join the others, wiping away his silent tears with the sleeve of his work clothes.

"It's impossible to find good help these days. Imagine that - a stable boy who can't properly saddle a horse," Lord Lockwood shook his head in exasperation, "I'd have him removed from his position, though it would probably only be filled with someone  _twice_  as lazy and incompetent as him."

Damon hummed out his wordless agreement before he turned to his family, gesturing to them each in turn, "Lord Lockwood, you remember my brother and his wife-to-be, the Lady Elena?" he asked, as his friend shook hands with Stefan and brushed his lips against Elena's knuckles.

"Of course," he said, smiling, "Remind me - when is your wedding?"

"The end of August, my lord," Elena replied, beaming as her hand found Stefan's.

"Ah, yes. Only in another few months - it shall be here in no time," Lord Lockwood remarked, politely.

"And of course you met my sister the night of King Niklaus's ball, did you not?" Damon continued, as though there had been no interruption, gesturing to Caroline with a final flourish.

Lord Lockwood rounded on her, a curious expression overcoming his features as he caught her hand in his own, "Of course - the Lady Caroline," he said, flashing her a smile as he raised her hand to his lips, "My lady, I did not think it possible but you look even more beautiful now than you did the night of the ball."

Caroline's eyes dropped, flickering over the dress she had chosen to wear for the occasion. It was one of her favourites, made for her for her last birthday - a gown of a bright sunshine yellow with decorative daisies embroidered carefully around the hem. Her hair hung loose just past her shoulders, as it almost always did, though - in honour of the event - Elena had taken the notion that morning to weave small white flowers in amongst her curls.

She heard her brother clear his throat and, glancing up, Damon fixed her with a pointed look, one eyebrow raised sharply. Swallowing her pride, she ducked her head and mumbled out a quiet 'thank you, my lord' in grateful reply to his compliment. Lord Lockwood grinned at her, his hands clasped behind his back as he leaned his head towards her, almost conspiratorially. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she found herself resisting the urge to take a step back.

"Your brother tells me you like horses," he said.

"I do, yes," Caroline replied, her gaze flickering briefly to Damon as she wondered where he was going with this.

"Well then, perhaps you would like to accompany me to see the new stallion I just bought from a horse trader up North? I've yet to take it out, but I was promised that it's one of the fastest beasts around," he boasted, the smile he wore as he held her hand in his bordering dangerously on something close to triumphant.

Caroline hesitated, taken aback by the offer. She could feel Damon staring at her, his blue eyes striking as they burned into her, and she knew exactly what he wanted her answer to be. Swallowing thickly, she drew herself up to her full height and took her hand from where the lord's fingers were curled around it.

"No, thank you, Lord Lockwood," she said, smiling sweetly, "Oh and, before I forget, your stable boy  _had_  saddled your horse correctly. It was  _you_  who has made the mistake in your misguided attempts to rectify his and I hope to God he has fixed it otherwise..." she trailed off meaningfully, her shoulders rising in a slight shrug before she turned to address her audience, as a whole, "Now if you excuse me."

Filled with adrenaline, she turned briskly on her heel and began to walk. To where - she wasn't sure, but she knew that, after her tirade, it would be wise for her to put as much distance between herself, Lord Lockwood and her eldest brother as was entirely possible.

It wasn't long, however, until she heard the pounding of footsteps rushing to catch up with her and a strong hand seized her upper arm, forming a firm manacle around it as it forced her to turn around. Damon glared down at her, eyes spitting sparks and his nostrils flaring angrily. Caroline gritted her teeth and shook his hand off her arm.

"Did our aunt teach you  _no_  manners?" Damon demanded and Caroline bristled instantly at the indirect slight against the woman who had raised her.

"Did Lord Lockwood's parents teach  _him_ any manners?" the youngest Salvatore shot back, glowering pointedly to where he had slunk off, visibly rebuffed, to rejoin his family, "You saw how he treated that stable boy, Damon. Is that truly who you want for me as a husband?"

"His family is very wealthy. They hold a lot of power in London," Damon replied coolly, folding his arms across his chest.

Caroline shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face for anything - any inkling of the carefree boy she had once known. There was none and, more than anything, that made her want to weep, "Is that all you care about anymore? Money? Power?" she whispered, unable to keep at bay the anguish that bled into her voice, "I am your  _sister_ , Damon - not some tool you can use in your rise up the social ladder."

Damon gritted his teeth, lurching forward to seize her arm again, "I am not just your brother anymore, Caroline, and you would do well to remember that," he snarled, his upper lip curling into a look of distaste as he gazed down at her, "I am also the head of this family and the decisions I make, in regards to Stefan and to you,  _will be respected_!"

"Then why don't you send me away again? Like our father did? You do try  _so hard_  to emulate him, Damon - but let me tell you," she spat at him, appraising him with a look of disgust, "you are a  _poor_  replacement."

She snatched her arm free of his grip and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her heart was hammering hard in her chest as she strode purposefully away from him and, though she was filled with bravado then, she knew she would come to regret her words. She could already feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall, and she sniffled slightly in a desperate attempt to suppress them.

Locked away with her tumultuous emotions and not entirely certain of her surroundings, she wasn't entirely sure of where her feet had ended up taking her. The gardens at Whitehall were vast and the crowd that milled around them that afternoon was thick, leaving her with no sign of where Elena and Stefan had got to. Though, if she was honest, a part of her was glad that she couldn't find them, still unsure of how even they would react to her outburst towards Lord Lockwood.

From somewhere to her left, she heard the hearty whinny of a horse and, a smile coming to her lips at the familiarity of the sound, she cast a glance at its source. Two horses, one a tawny brown mare and the other a grey stallion, grazed around an extended paddock and Caroline found herself wandering towards them, her hands resting on the smooth wood of the fence that confined them. They both seemed oblivious to her presence, the mare drinking from a trough of water while the stallion pawed at the ground in interest.

Caroline had always loved horses - ever since she was a little girl. She remembered the first time she had ever ridden one, on her aunt's estate, at age seven. It had been a beautiful brown mare, gentle and playful in its nature, and she had shook terribly as she sat on its back, the reins clasped in hands already slick with perspiration. The stable master had spoke to her, lecturing her about what and what not to do, but she had hardly heard him, his voice oddly faraway as she leaned down to look at how high her feet were off the ground. She didn't realize that they would be so big - they didn't look as big in the pictures she'd seen.

"Are you ready, Lady Caroline?" the stable master had asked her through his thick accent, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Uh..." she had mumbled, raising her wide seven-year-old eyes to gaze at him fearfully.

Her aunt, who'd been watching from a distance as the stable master had shown Caroline how to successfully saddle a horse, approached her with a fond smile, "You'll be all right, darling," she had said, patting her niece's leg comfortingly.

Caroline remembered staring down at her aunt in disbelief, but the certainty in Elizabeth's gaze had reassured her slightly and she had swallowed hard, raising her eyes to stare straight ahead of her in determination, "I'm ready."

She had discovered that day that she had a certain knack for equestrianism and, in the years that followed, she advanced onto galloping and jumping until horseback-riding became almost second nature to her. There was a certain freedom to it which she revelled in and, closing her eyes briefly, she tried to recall the feeling of the wind whipping past her face and tangling her blonde curls out behind her, the soaring sensation of triumph as she successfully cleared a jump. It had been so long since she had been out on a horse and she missed the activity terribly.

Caught in the depths of her reverie, she didn't notice the grey stallion approach her until he butted his nose against her hand, eager for attention. She threw him a grin, and, conceding to his wishes, raised her hand to stroke his nose. The horse gave a low whinny, drawing back his head to shake his mane.

"You're beautiful," Caroline murmured, sincerely, suddenly struck with a pang of longing as she thought back to her own horse, back in the stables of her aunt's estate; she patted the stallion's neck, a corner of her mouth plucked up into a small smile, "Do you have a name, hm? Wait - let me guess. Is it... Thunder?"

At her guess, the stallion exhaled a short breath, flaring its nostrils almost as though in irritation.

She giggled in response, "All right, not that then. How about," she paused briefly, pursing her lips in thought, "Champion? Thor?"

"His name is Zephyr," a voice cut in, silky smooth and oh so sure of itself.

Caroline whipped around in surprise, hands braced against the fence of the paddock as she watched the King approach her, a smile dimpling his features and she wondered how long he had been watching her. She swallowed, remembering her manners only a second too late, "Your Majesty," she greeted him once she had recovered from the initial shock of seeing him, dipping into a brief curtsy.

"Please, Lady Caroline, call me Klaus," he said and her cheeks burned at his suggestion of a familiarity being established between them - would he mention the gifts, she thought, watching him carefully as he came to join her by the fence, looking out onto the animals, "You like horses." It was a statement, rather than a question.

A beat passed between them before she replied, "I do," she said, watching as the grey stallion's attention seemed to shift from her to the King and, to her surprise, he welcomed it, patting the beast's neck in a way that was distinctly affectionate.

"Do you ride?" he asked her, cocking a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes, I do - ever since I was a little girl," she replied, even managing a small smile; she had intended to leave it there, but the bubble of pride that had swelled up inside her got the better of her and she continued, despite herself, "I'm quite good at it actually."

"So Stefan tells me," he remarked, tipping her a smile, and Caroline felt a strange thrill shoot through her at the idea of  _the King_  seeking information on her, "Do you have your own horse?"

"I do," Caroline said hastily, before he had the chance to come up with another extravagant gift for her, "A mare - I call her Athena."

"The Greek goddess of wisdom and warfare," he noted, seemingly impressed.

"Yes, I... I got her when I was eleven and I'd been reading about the gods of Mount Olympus at the time and I just liked the name," she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips as she remembered the joy she had felt when her aunt had presented her with a horse of her very own.

"Where is she now?"

"Still at my aunt's estate," she replied, gritting her teeth at the sadness that pierced her heart at the admission and deciding they were in desperate need of a subject change, "Is he yours?" she asked him instead, nodding pointedly to the grey stallion who had since grown bored of their exchange and was now pawing at the ground again, as though in search of something.

"He is," the King said, "A gift from the King of Spain for my coronation. He's a fast beast, a faithful one - I could do no better," his blue eyes fixed intently on her, gaze so penetrating that she felt as though it were burning into the depths of her very soul, "You should accompany me for a ride some time."

Caroline exhaled a nervous laugh and sucked in a deep breath, hesitating visibly, "Forgive me, your Majesty - I mean no offence - but I'm afraid I don't think that's a good idea," she said, her rebuff coming out far more breathless than she intended, "Now if you would please excuse me, I must try to find my brothers."

She ducked into another curtsy - so quickly that she wavered dangerously, almost losing her balance, though thankfully she did not - before she turned sharply on her heel and walked away from him. She could only have gone three paces before his voice reached her, breaking the crisp spring air around them and stilling her in her tracks.

"One day," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice, "One day, in which to get to know you - that's all I ask."

She turned at that, fixing him with a bemused look, "And if I was to give you that day? What of the night? Would you seduce me, spread my legs and take my innocence?" Caroline asked, unable to help the derision that was seeping into her tone.

To her surprise, the King exhaled a laugh and threw her a smirk, "If you wish it."

"I don't," she shot back, folding her arms across her chest.

"Then I shall do nothing of the sort," he assured her, the words actually sounding sincere and Caroline did her best not to let her surprise show.

All of a sudden, the sharp blast of a bugle horn rang out across the gardens, a signal that the hunt would soon begin, and a collection of around three stable boys hurried towards the paddock, in a flurry of motion as they each bowed to the King before unlatching the gate and leading Zephyr from the pen. The tawny mare raised her head, but otherwise made no movement as she tucked her legs under her and settled down to rest by the side of the paddock. Caroline took a step back, watching as the boys checked that Zephyr was saddled correctly before withdrawing for the stallion to be mounted.

"Thank you," King Niklaus said to the boys collectively as he placed his foot in the stirrup and, with ease, hoisted himself up onto the horse.

She couldn't help but notice how regal he looked, in that moment, and she felt a shiver of  _something_  shoot down her spine and she pulled her shawl around her tighter, not daring to meet his gaze though she could feel him looking at her. Looking at her in that way he always seemed to - as though she were something wondrous and bemusing all at once.

"I hope you'll think about what I said, Lady Caroline," he said to her, flashing her a smile that seemed downright roguish, "Take a chance."

Caroline finally brought her gaze up to meet his, her features impassive as she countered with a careful, "We'll see."

His grin did not even falter as, nudging Zephyr's side with the heel of his boot, he took off at a steady trot to take his position at the head of the hunt. Caroline watched him go, a confused crease between her eyes as she struggled to process what had just happened. Another sharp bugle blast sounded and, with a thunderous pounding of hooves, the hunt was on and they were off.

:-:

The third gift came the night after the hunt.

Caroline hummed to herself as, dressed in her white cotton nightgown, she carefully braided her hair. Damon still wasn't speaking to her, treating her with more coldness than she had even thought possible for a person to possess. Stefan had smiled at her sympathetically, squeezing her shoulder in an affectionate gesture as he whispered, low and in an attempt at reassurance:  _'He'll come around in a day or two.'_

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyes and, as she fastened a blue ribbon around the end of her braid, she cast a glance at her bed's reflection in the mirror of her dresser. She couldn't wait to slip under the sheets and let the softness of the mattress envelop her as it carried her off to slumber. With the day she had - rebuffing Lord Lockwood, arguing with Damon and her curious encounter with the King - she couldn't help but think that sleep, at this stage, was more than well-deserved.

A quiet knock sounded at her bedroom door and her brow furrowed, wondering who it could be. Damon wouldn't knock - and, if he did, it would be nowhere near as soft as that. Perhaps it was Stefan - come to speak to her, calmly and rationally, about the day's events. She knew it was difficult for him, to see his two siblings fighting and to almost constantly be caught in the middle, and she supposed she could begrudge him a conversation, even at this late hour. The luxury of her bed would simply have to wait.

"Come in," she called out, turning in her seat as the door opened.

To her surprise, it was Lucy.

"Lucy," Caroline said, shaking her head, "I thought I said you could retire for the night."

"I know, my lady, and I was about to when..." she paused, her hesitation palpable as she held out a slender black box to her, "Well, when this came for you."

Caroline groaned, this exchange between them seeming all too familiar by this point. She spared her maidservant a weak smile, beckoning her over to give it to her. There was no letter, which she found odd, as she carefully slid away the ivory ribbon and lifted the lid off the box. Inside, there were no jewels or anything to suggest the boundless wealth of its sender - just a simple piece of paper, rolled up to almost resemble a scroll.

Intrigued, she lifted the paper from the box and unrolled it slowly. A small gasp fell from her lips, her breath catching in her throat. Her own face gazed back at her, sketched onto the paper with black charcoal, looking just as she did that afternoon - down to even the tiny flowers that had been woven intricately into her hair. Beside her, the stallion she had seen earlier - Zephyr - was drawn, again with the careful strokes of charcoal. The detail was exquisite and, biting down on her bottom lip, she ran a hand gently over the paper.

His words from earlier, exchanged by the side of the horse paddock, filtered back to her. ' _One day. One day, in which to get to know you - that's all I ask.'_ Would that really be so terrible? She blinked and shook her head in disbelief - was she truly thinking that? The King was clearly persistent and would continue as such. Perhaps if she gave him this day he would finally realize that she was nothing special and he would allow his attentions to wander elsewhere. Besides, spending a day with the King would also grant her a day's reprieve from the frosty atmosphere that lay thickly over the Salvatore mansion.

_'Take a chance.'_

"My lady?" she heard Lucy say, from somewhere behind her; from her tone, Caroline could tell it wasn't the first time she'd spoken in the last few minutes.

"Hm?" Caroline hummed out in acknowledgement, still entranced by the drawing she held in her hands.

"My lady, would you like me to return it to the palace? Like the others?" Lucy asked.

"No," Caroline said, so softly it was barely audible and she cleared her throat to try again, fingers fumbling as she tried to roll up the drawing and place it back into the box without ripping or damaging it in any way, "No, it's quite all right, thank you."

Lucy nodded before asking, "Is there anything else you'll be requiring of me tonight, my lady?"

"No thank you, Lucy. I may have a letter for you to deliver - but only  _after_  you have gotten some sleep," Caroline added, the corners of her lips lifting into a teasing smile that was matched by her maidservant, "Go and retire. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, my lady," Lucy said, ducking her head to Caroline briefly before she hurried from the room.

Caroline waited until she heard the door click shut behind her maidservant before she got up from behind her dresser and crossed the room to her meticulously organized desk. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she drew towards her a piece of paper and her silver fountain pen, the nib poised to write. Biting down briefly on her bottom lip, she sucked in a deep breath, making absolutely certain that this was what she wanted to do.

_'Your Majesty -_

_You may have one day.  
_

_Sincerely,  
Lady Caroline Salvatore'_


End file.
